


La Bibliothèque Parisienne

by writtenthroughtime



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, smut for smut's sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie and Claire enjoying some steamy moments...</p>
<p>This started out as something in answer to a post I saw on my time line months ago. I had written most of it, then let it fall away. As I was going through my drafts folder I found this partially written story, added a little bit more to it, and now I’m giving it to you all. It’s a stand-alone fic and I hope you all enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Bibliothèque Parisienne

“Jamie?” Claire called from the bathroom.

“Jamie!” She called again, stepping out and grabbing the earrings off her wardrobe.

Delicately placing each bauble in her ears, she peered around the room and made her way to the hall in search of her missing husband.

“Ja—Oh! There you are!” She said started as Jamie rounded the top of the stairs.

“Aye,” He said looking down. He was clad in his oils stained jeans and a tattered t-shirt, dirt and grime covering his hands and clothes.

“Before ye say anything, Sassenach, I know I’m no properly dressed.” He looked up at her with a boyish grin, “But it looks to me that ye arena properly dressed as well.”

With a wink, Jamie made his way closer to her, resting his stained hands on her hips.

“What?” She exclaimed, looking down at her respectful blood red evening gown. The neckline of the dress—while not exactly modest—covered her chest more than most. She didn’t know if it was the fabric he was referring to as not proper; it was a silky satin that flowed perfectly down her body—tight in all of the right places and loose where needed.

“There’s nothing wrong with this dre—” She was cut off by Jamie giving one swift tug, and the dress fell to the ground in heap by her feet.

“Now, Sassenach, let me get you ready.”

Jamie smirked and quicker than she thought possible, had himself undressed. Pulling her to him, he roughly and fervently kissed her. Her hair knotting between his fingers as the heat built within her.

“Wait, Jamie.” Claire breathlessly said, her hands leaving Jamie, fumbling to take out the earrings.

“What’s wrong with yer wee baubles? They’re no in my way.” He said as he languidly kissed down her neck to her breasts.

“They were—” she stuttered out, her breath leaving her. “They were getting tangled in my hair.”

Jamie’s hum of acknowledgement came just as he pulled down her strapless bra and latched onto her pert nipple.

“Oh!” She gasped as his tongue soothed the spot where he had bit.

“No more words, Sassenach.” Jamie’s voice was husky, and full of want and need. He laid her on the bed then unceremoniously ripped the last piece flimsy nude lace from her body.

“Jamie!” Claire cried, his voice a staccato prayer. “I need you…inside…please…Jamie!”

Not one to deny her anything, Jamie entered in one swift movement—setting an unrelenting pace of pleasure.

Claire laid atop Jamie, panting. Both of them were blissfully sated for the time being and content in that moment of satisfaction.

His hand rubbed up and down in sensuous circles on her back.

“Mmmm…” She murmured enjoying the feel of his calloused palms on her.

With a quick, unexpected slap to her ass, Jamie sat up rolling her to the side of him. “I best finish getting ready, mo nighean donn. Dinna want our guests to wait for their hosts.”

He winked and cockily walked into the bathroom where she could hear the shower start up. Sighing she relaxed all the way into the bed, waiting. Claire knew that if she were to walk into the bathroom and join him in a repeat of what had occurred the night before, they’d never make it downstairs. This dinner party was too important to Jamie and she would not let him down.

Resigned, she sat up and fluffed her now mangled curls, “So much for that effort.” She mumbled to herself.

She made her way over and picked up the red dress from where it lay strewn across the threshold of the door. Frowning she saw the wrinkles that would take steaming, and the brown-translucent smudge marks that were the perfect match of Jamie’s hands.

Oil.

In his attempt to get her ready to his liking, he managed to stain the one dress she had in mind for the night.

Biting her lip, Claire thumbed through the few dresses she had hanging in the wardrobe. Little black cocktail, shimmery blue clubbing dress, ugly brown and yellow full length-high necked dress(a gift from one of Jamie’s coworkers), her wedding dress(safely tucked away in a garment bag, preserving the white and lush silver details)—the red dress was really her only appropriate dress for this occasion…or was it.

A smirk on her face, Claire grabbed the black garment bag tucked in the far corner of the wardrobe and strode to the guest bath to make herself presentable.

Forty-five minutes later, she was finally ready. She could hear the sounds of guests roaming the halls and knocking at regular intervals, Jamie’s jovial voice greeting and welcoming everyone as they entered.

Claire looked herself over in the mirror, a deep flush radiating from her chest to forehead at the prospect of surprising Jamie in this dress.

Walking down the stairs was the most nerve-wrecking experience for her; Jamie stood just below at the landing, shaking hands, greeting, and motioning the direction for the guests to go. Claire squared her shoulders and made her footsteps slightly louder.

Jamie looked behind him and gasped, the French businessman who stood before him forgotten.

“Claire!” Jamie exclaimed as he raced up and met her halfway, escorting her back down the stairs.

“Monsieur Duverany, may I introduce my wife, Claire Fraser.”

The portly man bowed his head taking my hand and kissing the back of it in greeting.

“Enchanté, Madame Fraser.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Monsieur.” I turned to Jamie and smiled. “I am sorry for my delay.”

“Nonsense!” Mr. Duvernay exclaimed as Jamie went to speak. “A lady such as yourself should never worry about her arrival, only that she be the best dressed in the room. And that endeavor my dear, you’ve succeeded in.”

Claire blushed as the man bowed yet again.

Jamie slid an arm around her waist, “Ye’ll be paying for the dress yer wearing later.”

Her blush deepened.

“What are you going to do about it until then?” She turned her head to the side, winking. Jamie felt himself harden further.

“Careful, or I may no wait until later.”

“Promise?” She whispered back.

Jamie stood stunned. All of his thoughts drifted south and to what his wife may or may not be wearing under the sky blue lace and silk—the same as the Scottish flag. Already her skin look creamy and decadent, the blue only enhancing it. He took a deep breath with a slow exhale, looking up to the sky.

“Lord help me to no embarrass her or myself tonight.” He prayed quickly, trying to compose himself for company.

Claire was nearly into the dining room when she noticed Jamie was not with her. She turned back to see him rooted to the spot, head back and neck flushed. She smirked at his reaction.

“Good evening,” She greeted the guests. “Sorry to have all of you wait so long, please be seated and dinner will be served momentarily.”

She smiled, and held back a cringe as some of the men leered in her direction.

As the wine was being poured, conversation filled the room, and Jamie finally made his way beside Claire. He made sure the heads of the table seats were missing, not one person was more important than the other.

Claire dropped her fork as her husband’s hand eased its way up her thigh beneath her dress.

“Easy, Sassenach. Ye dinna wish for them to ken what we are doing, do ye?” He whispered in her ear with a smile. To the guests he was simply complimenting his wife, but to her, he was setting her on fire.

Claire slipped a hand down and squeezed his in response. “Library?” She whispered back into his ear with a face-splitting grin.

It was his turn to cough and quickly turn it into a laugh.

“When dessert is served, meet me there.” He nipped at her ear and she let out a laugh.

“Madame Fraser?” She heard from behind her. The head of the hired staff for the night stood, worry creasing her face.

“What’s wrong, Suzette?”

“Can you come look, Madame? I fear we may have an issue for dessert.”

Claire stood gracefully, the room turned to look at her. “Please continue to enjoy the meal, the cook just wishes to have a word with me about the next course.”

Under her breath as the two walked away Claire whispered, “What’s gone wrong, Suzette?”

Suzette didn’t answer her verbally, she grabbed Claire’s hands and rushed her to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry Madame.” Suzette said, once in the kitchen.

Claire’s eyes went wide, the cakes and pies meant for dessert were burnt and flat. Pie filling smeared across the counter tops and floors.

“How?”

“Dogs, Madame.” The cook said. “We were taking out the garbage when a pack of dogs burst through. We managed to get them outside, but as you can see, dessert was ruined.”

Claire searched the room for a solution. “Do you have anything you can make? I have thirty people in my dining room expecting to be fed some of the finest desserts in Paris.”

“Do you have what it takes to make whiskey bread pudding or sticky toffee pudding?” Jamie’s voice floated from the doorway.

“Oui, I believe so, but that is not what you would say, appropriate for the venue of the night.”

Jamie shook his head, “Make it, and fast. The second course of dinner will soon be served and the bread needs to be warm. Ice cream or fresh whipped cream will be needed as well.”

“Oui Monsieur!” The cook called and the kitchen burst back into a flurry of action.

Claire led Jamie out of the kitchen towards the dining room, but he had other plans. He grabbed her hand, pulling her across the hall to the library, slamming the door shut.

“Jamie? What?”

“I told ye, Sassenach that ye would pay for that dress.”

“Now? Christ, Jamie it’s the middle of dinner won’t they--”

His lips were on hers, cutting off her train of thought.

“I canna wait, mo nighean donn.” He growled, roughly pulling the hem of her skirt above her waist.

She fumbled with the belt that held his kilt up. He grabbed her hands in one of his own, placing them above her head. He kissed down her neck, burying his nose in the line of her cleavage, feeling below that she was bare beneath the dress, and ready. Oh so very ready. He quickly rucked up his kilt and entered her in one swift movement.

She gasped against his mouth, pleasure enveloping her. He groaned back, moving slowly at first. His left hand roamed her side, pulling the material up as he went. When he came to her breasts, he pulled hard, popping the buttons in the back, and freeing her breasts to him. His hands gripped and massaged as his hips met hers in a faster pace. Claire wound her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass.

“Harder,” she panted breathily. “Jamie, harder!”

He picked up the pace in response, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room. The edge of the bookcase dug into her spine causing her to arch further into him. Taking him deeper within her.

“Christ!” Jamie grunted. “I canna last much longer, please tell me yer close, Sassenach?”

She bit her lip, closing her eyes, and threw her head back nodding slightly. Jamie buried his head in her neck, biting down gently as his release overtook him. The love bite and the feel of him pulsing inside her caused her to go succumb to the feeling as well.

Together they panted in ecstasy, as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through them.

“You weren’t kidding about paying for this dress were you?”

He chuckled, causing more sparks of pleasure to ripple within them both.

“No, mo nighean donn.” He kissed her temple. “I dinna joke when it comes to loving you.”


End file.
